The Herald, 1912-06-21, Page 6Take A Scoopful
01 Each ----
Side By Side
Take "$t. Lawrence"
Granulated in one
scoop --and any other
sugar in the other.
Look at "St. Law.
ranee" Sugar -- its
perfect crystals .- its
pure, white sparkle --
its even grain. Test it point by point, and you will see that
Absolutely
olutely
est
Absolutely
sugar Pere
is one of the choicest sugars ever refined—with a standard of purity
that few sugars can boast. Try it in your home.
Analysis shows, "St. Lawrence Granulated" to be "os. whoa to rood
Pure Cane Sugar with no impurities whatever"
"Most every dealer sells St. Lawrence Sugar."
TEM ST. LAWRENCE SUGAR REFINING CO. LIMITED, MONTREAL.
enzasenster
65
`�
R
UTTL[ CHILD'S PRR'{ER
OR, THE DUEL IN THE GLEN.
CHAPTER %XVII.—(Cont'd)
The
whe Irene
and wihshakg
hand, drew back the velvet portieres, and
the sight that met her gaze was engraven
upon her heart while her memory lasted.
Nanette, the maid, sat in a low willow
rocker before the grate ire. The even-
ings were slightly chill now, and the
pine Iogs in the burnished fire -place threw
a rosy grateful warmth into the room,
that was very comforting.
On Nanette's lap, sat Ruby -iter darling
-the pride of her heart!
How lovely the little one looked, sit-
ting there in the full glow of the firelight.
The child was evidently tired, for the
flaxen curly head drooped against Na.
nette's shoulder. Irene gazed with her
heart in her eyes.
"Now, Miss Ruby," the nurse was say-
ing, as she proceeded to disrobe the
child. "I am going to put you to bed,
and you must go to sleep -that's a dar-
ling."
"You may put me to bed, Nanette, but
I shall not go to sleep," declared little
Riley. decidedly.
"And, why not?" asked Nanette, de-
spairingly.
Because I haven't kissed my mamma
good night; and you haven't told me that
fairy story you promised me, Nanny."
"Your mamma has been very busy. no
doubt," replier. Nanette she will come
in k, ? n..nptiya..trid
she�t.1 "- •1i .e. , 'you "are still
awake."
Yea, she will Iike it," persisted little
Ruby. "She and I always have great
romps when she finds me awake, and I'm
going to wait for that."
"But do wait in your nice little bed.
then," coaxed Nanette. "If you will, I'll
tell you the fairy story."
To this preposition the child very
readily agreed, and allowed Nanette to
lay her down in her downy little nest.
Now begin the story, Nanette," she
cried, impatiently, "I'm in bed now."
"Yes. but you must close your eyes
and keep thein shut very tight," coaxed
the maid.
Well. after you begin," said the child,
very warily.
Nanette smiled, as she drew her willow
rocker close to the bedside.
"Once on a time," she commenced,
"there was a very very wicked woman
who had a very beautiful daughter; she
loved this daughter very- dearly, but be.
cause of some wrong she had done the
girl was taken from her, she-"
"I don t like that story." exclaimed the
child, "I'd rather hear all over again the
one about the wee dainty fairies danc-
ing...on the blades of grass in the moon.
light in the glen, with the chiming of the
blue hells for music, and the twinkle of
the fire -flies for lamps. Mamma used to
tell the that story. It's--so-niece,"
The last words trailed off into a sleepy
yawn. The flaxen curly head dropped back
among the tare frills of the pillow, the
child had drifter. into the beautiful land
of Nod.
"I knew she was as sleepy as sleepy
could be," murmured Nannette.
At that moment Irene entered the nur-
sery with an unsteady step.
"You may go, Nannette." she said; stili
the girl lingered at the door, looking
wistfully bank.
"Oh. my lady," she exclaimed, "are .von
ill? You do took se pale. Do let me sit
with you, my lady;" but Irene shook her
hed.
I tenet to be mune with Ruby," elle
said. "Tt will be some time before your
master retell -1m," elle went nn, 'and I do
not want to be disturbed until that
time, you understand? I went, no one
to tlisterb 4141' uuder any pretext, Nan-
nette."
I &hall see to it that you are not, my
lady," replied 'lunette.
"Nannette," the said, calling the girl
back From the door; "you are very fond
of Ruby --my darling --aro you not?"
"Oh yes, my lady,- returned the girl,
"I love little Missy so well I could give
my life for ber."
Teare eaten into Irene's eyes.
"If I ,should aie, was suddenly lost to
her, Nannette, he said, huskily, "you
would never hit Ruby forget me, world
you, my good girl?"
"Oh, my lady," cried the frightened
maid, "you are ill, you surely are, or
You would not talk like that."
"No, no, Nannette," returned Irene, "we
all hale Nombre thoughts at times; you
have always been kind to little Ruby,'
she went on, "and I want to show you
that I appreciate it; take this little chain
that you have always admired 'co much;"
and she took from her own neck a dainty
chitin of cixnuieite workin anship, and
clasped it al.iotit the girl's: "and when.
ever you look at it, remember it is in
grateful nrknnwledgrnont of your love for
my daring.
"Thew, do not say a word, Nannette,../
will net hear one weird cif thanks. Light
my rending -lamp and leave me," e
"Shall 1 return, my laxly?" eeked. Nan.
netts
"Not unless I call you," replied Irene.
Left to lrereolf. Irene carefully closer)
and belted the deer, .then glided swiftly
across the room, dinging herself down On
her knees by her child's eoucir.
There was no one to see how she canelit
up the tiny little form, weeping the wild-
eel
est tears that ever fell from a woman's
eyes.
"Mamma, is it you?" murmured little
Ruby, sleepily, and the little head nest-
led to her shoulder, and two soft pink
arms were flung about her neck.
"Oh, my darling! my darling!" sobbed
Irene below her breath. "How can I leave
You! I cannot, oh I cannot!" and she
strained the child so tightly to her arms
the little one cried out in sleepy. wonder,
Irene unclasped the clinging arms, and
laid the little ono gently back in her pret-
ty nest of lace and eider -down, sobbing
pitifully over her the while,
Little Ruby, much to her relief, did not
waken.
"Oh, my darling!" site moaned. swaying
to and fro like a reed shaken by the wind.
"I -your mother --am bidding you fare-
well, an eternal farewell, forever. I am
leaving you in this hour, my darling, and
it is tearing my heart -strings; it is more
bitter than death.
"You will never know hew I carne and
bent over you. my darling, my heart
breaking in my bosom. The cruelest des-
tiny that ever overtook a woman and
hunted her down has overtaken me. I
have sinned, but oh, my babe It was done
in Innocence, I knew not that that other
ono still lived when I wedded your papa.
I thought, ah, heaven, I call upon the
listening angels to bear witness that I
believed I was free -free!'
stilllved, horrible
truth
I had read of one
death long before fell upon me like the
shock• of doom, in drove me mad with
horror; after all these years the horrible
skeleton of the past has burst from its
ngrow efo1e9lndhtnftlisme,
liit rmaltaislife holds
dear."
C'I-IAPTER SCVIII.
Never
stifiatrmel,thstar,shinngtfomthbue
hea-
vens,
drifting in through the half -drawn
light fall upon as sadder asightt thand the
beautiful woman kneeling with a death
white face beside that little couch.
"Let nee te.tr myself away while 1 have
the strength to go," she murmured. 'Ile
said he was in honor bound to give my
story broadcast to the world unless X
parted from Frederick, and from you -
his child. If 1 refused, it would mean
disgrace, ruin for all, and Frederick would
spurn me. Yea. I must go! I -must Ieave
you!;'
There could be no words of parting be-
tween Frederick and herself she well knew
-she must write her farewell to him.
There was no pen and paper in the nut.
sery. Irene touched the bell. and Nan-
notce appeared at once.
"Nannette," she said, "go to my bou-
doir, to my writing -desk, and bring me
pen, ink, and paper. 'There is a photo-
graph of my -my husband, on the desk,
fetch that, ton; be quick."
A few moments later, the maid appear.
ed with the artieles, and again Irene dis-
missed her, though the girl would fain
have lingered.
"My lady is going to write a letter and
at this time in the evening, too, now why
should she do that," muttered Nannette,
"she knows it will not be posted before
morning. I do hope she is not going to
turn out a literary lady like the last mite
1;11448 I lived with. Iter bell was forever
going at all hours of the night and it
was always: --Bring me pen and paper,
.quick, Nannette, a thought ie flying past
inc. I niu€�t seize it ,, tiuie or it will
dodge me."
Irene had closed acct firmly fastened the
door again, sat down at the table and with
trembling hand commenced writing her
letter to her husband.
It was very brief and said simply:-
" 'Frederick: -I have left you forever -
when you read this 1 than be far away.
I hare shined: but oh, blame me not, for
my little child's sake, whom I leave with
you. All I ask is this, Frederick -it is
my prayer- do not teach her to curse me.
If you knew all, you might forgive me for
going -for love's sake. There is no help
for me.
Irene."
The lines were hurriedly written, and
Irene, in her hurry, did not see that they
could be interpreted as a strong confes-
sion cif guilt.
Where could e]re place it -where his eyes
would be likely to rest upon it et once
when he entered the room as he always
did to kiss little Ruby, awake or asleep,
good night --anti the thought ocenrred to
her to pin it to her darling's breast, and
this elle did; yes, he would be sure to see
it there -at once.
Quickly Irene catches rip the long, mark
renal; and the plain hat, with the dark,
Heavy veil wound round it, which she
had thrust behind the portieres when she
bad entered the room, finding Nannette
there, and hastily donned them; then
gropes her way, like one fainting, back
to the (touch on which her darling lay-
the little ebild which bound her heart to
Frederick -the child she loves] a theusand
times dearer than her own life,
"Oh, my baby, good-byel heaven watch
over nod comfort you, my helpless child,"
site robbed wildly. "You will never know
hew your leer mother's heart broke as
she kissed yon farewell. Ah, God! Ho*
van I heave yen!"
f Twice Irene crept to iho door, a d an
many times turned hied- 1'F take oete lest
look at the face dearox';ltz» all file world',
beside, to her, i 'i,
A step on the stair ria tied her; the
fatal moment of partin come, Cilia.
must tear herself away. ;site had
reached the door the third one, elle fled
swiftly through it without . e jewelweed
glance lest her courage s]ttlild leave her.
Like a shadow she glide;t . through the
long corridors and out into the sweet
night air. No one who set *the etlent
figure, half hiding as she huiiricd swiftly,
along under the trees, andb, the hedges,:
would ever have thought that .was Irene
Emend, She walked en sure , Meeting
no one; nothing disturbed he "save that
even and anon, the rabbits a;l?ed fl'em
their leafy coverts and dartee aorosas the
path before her; or a starttcd light ,bird
cried from its nest in the trees, w-
If anyone had mentioned to her -long
ago of a lady, delicate and chanter. Valle
ing through the lonely high -roads at night
she would have wondered •howit could
he done without great fear; she seemed
to have forgotten all fear, She remelll-
bored only one thing, she had parted from
her husband and her little chid forever
mere, and never in this life would she see
their faces again.
It did net occur to her where, or which
way she was going. She had MAY one
object in view, to walk along slvtftlY-
to be so far when morning dawned, they
would never find her. She walked on,.:and
on, and the great lights of Landoll 'fad-
ed, slowly, one by one, in the distanee,
so it seemed to her. Her brain whirled;
her mind seemed one chaos of confused
thought. Where should she go? Went
could site do'? In the distance she heard
the murmur of rippling waters laving .the
shore, and walked on, she soon found her-
self at London Bridge.
Afar off a huge clock tolled thepasaing
hour. Tt was midnight.
When Irene reached the centre of the
great' bridge she paused.
don. darkow oshadows water
n it with
d to tier,
and, the stars twinkling in its waves seem-
-04'W bo inviting heaven below the waters,
She stood there
"Where the lamps Quiver
Far down in the river;
Bouaeless and homeless
She wandered by night."
Women passed her by with gilded hair,
painted faces and tawdry finery; with
light words on their wrotohed lips, Young
Kele went by with the laughter of de-
tuons coming from their young mouths.
Men passed her by with sneers and jeers,
pndrnore than one comment on the beauty
oilier. face. But Irene neither saw nor
heard.
Suddenly, Irene saw -a woman come hur-
riedly along the bridge, pause, and glance
wildly about her. She did not see Irene,
who stood near her in the thick, black
shadow.
"Death is the and of life at the best,"
muttered the woman. "What dons it :nat-
ter that it is ended one time more than
another; I am dying of hunger and of
thirst; one splash and all will be over -
one moment more and I shall be beyond
sorrow.' She drew her clothes tightly
around her, and took the fatal plunge! -
but, she did not go over the brink, down
into- the dark, glassy water, two white
hands had clutched her and drawn her
back from the very portals of death, and
a voice cried out gaspingly:-
"What would you do, woman?"
CHAPTER XXVIII.- (Cont'd)
"Leave an unkind world for -well, no
matter 1vhat, or where. Perdition could
not be worse than what I have had here.
Who are you, who would hold me bath
from my perpoee? And two glaring, de-
fiant eyes, glared into the white, beau
tiful face, looking with horror into her
o1Y11.
It was Irene who had rescued the wo
man. And for an. instant, these two,
whose lives were destined to cross so
strangely -so wondrously -looked steadily
into each other's faces.
"I am one as wretchedly unhappy as
yourself," murmured Irene; "but. great as
my sorrow is, 'I could never seek to end
it by taking my own life -'The Lord giv-
eth-and. the Lord taketh away,'" she
quoted, gravely.
What does it matter that 1 die now
or tomorrow night -or the next day be
found dead with the sun shining on my
face; it would come to it by that time,
for I' am starving -do you hear, starving!'
I have stood in the street for two days,
supplicating work -alms -food at last, but
people laughed as they passed me by. One
woman got down from her coach and
thrust a tract ite my hand; -I dashed it
into her face, crying out to ]ler what I
say to you. Don't talk religion to a starv-
ing woman -talk BREAD!"
"Come away from the water; you shall
have food," replied Irene, forgetting for
the moment her own sorrow in the ab-
ject misery of this forlorn creature. She
followed Irene, with an eagerness pitiful
to behold, to the nearest place where re-
freshments could he obtained. When the
pangs of hunger had subdued, she turned
to Irene with tears in her eyes. "You
have put new life into my body. God
bless you, lady; for you aro a lady, I can
see that -no matter what brought you to
London Bridge at midnigbt."
Irene drew a bank -note from the well-
filled purse she had taken the precaution
to bring with her. "Take that," she said,
pressing it into the other's hand, it will
keep you from hunger until you can find
something to do."
(To be continued.)
,,aaYaath,?t'7kfi!.rsiDJ'^"+• n `'s`-`;.t:t.
tea BY
a , �r+1ter 1".- 4�5 ate
g .5ii a,a
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tiLtice �k�. ;c:xn�rr�sY;�;k�,.�."v" �1ti1: ViJ.;
` ,'eels+y'' 7',. 3t,`,`,.zi '7 .✓a •''y, ' • t1' :'.�yg a",1fit' *:nieneee -
ft9J'iie, r ..
The ne
Its
Era
Gran `. to
reservi
ana
When you pay a good price for your strawberries, and spend a lot of
time preparing, cooking and bottling them, isn't it too bad only to get after all,
preserve3 that "might have been better" ?
Yet that is what you do get, unless you use the very best sugar as well
as the finest fruit. '
Every trace Of impurity in the sugar has a bad effect on the flavor and
the keeping gttn�g 1Fie preserves.
gejlt 'Extra Granulated Sugar is refined to absolute purity, and put
up, without being touched by human hand, in 2 and 5 pound Sealed Cartons
and in 20 and roo pound bags.
Buy Sugar in these original packages and you get Canada's
finest sugar, at its best. Make your preserves, jellies and jams with
geaExtra Granulated and you'll get the most gratifying returns from
your time,. skill and money.
ee eve eeezew.„ ye,
J
26
MT'
"Ye Old Sugar.b,oafc"
ofiaa•i
M E CAI�IADA
SUGAR REFINING CO.
• .1M1'rCo..
Try this way of
preserving Strawberries
—it works splendidly.
Hull and clean the strawberries and put
them into jars which have been sterilized
with boiling water. Fill each jar, but do not
pack the fruit down. -
Make a thin syrup by boiling for ten
minutes 3 parts of REDPATH Extra
Granulated Sugar in 5 parts of water. You
will need nearly as many pints of syrup
as of fruit.
Pour the syrup over the fruit, filling
the jars. Screw on the covers, without the
rubbers, stand the jars on strips of wood in
a wash -boiler, and cover them to within an
inch of the tops with cold water. Bring this
water to a boil and cook for from 15 to 20
minutes, according to the ripeness of the
berries. Watch closely after they have
boiled 15 minutes, and when cooked remove
at once.
Have the syrup, which was left over,
'very hot. With a fork gently stir the fruit
so as to get out all the air bubbles, then fill
each jar up with the hot syrup and seal,
being careful no leave no air inside.
Strawberries, raspberries or any other
fruit preserved in this way keep their shape
and size, and retain much more of the fresh
fruit flavor than if they are cooked up in
the ordinary way,
The Canada Sugar Relining Co.
Malted, Montreal.
a
On the Farm
TIME TO WATER HORSES.
A horse should be watered before
feeding, and never given a large
quantity of water after a meal, for
the simple reason that the water
will wash the food out of the sto-
mach before stomach digestion has'
taken place, and the food will not
bb well prepared for absorption;
and besides • it is sometimes the
cause of colic.
There is a popular idea that a
warm horse should not be allowed
to drink, and, unlike a great many
other popular ideas, there is a little
truth in it. If You water 'a waren
horse in the ordinary way, letting
him drink all that he will, you are
likely to have a foundered horse on
your hands. This is especially so
if, at the time, the horse is fatigued.
Nevertheless, it is always safe to
allow him from Si*. to ten swallows,
no matter how warm he is. If this,.:
be given on going into the stable;
and he is allowed to stand and eat'
hay for an hour and. is then offered
water, he will not drink nearly so
much as he would have had none
been given before.
The danger is not in the first
swallow, as we often hear it assert-
ed, but in the excessive quantities
he will drink if not restrained. '
John Splan, the great trainer,
writes: "As to water, I: think that
a horse should have all that he
wants at all times. A man says:
'Why ; will you give your horse
water before a race?' Yes, before
the race, in the race, and after the
race and any other time that he
wants to drink. When .I say give
your horse all the water he wants
before the race, I do not mean that
you shall tie hire in a warm stall
where he cannot get a drink for five
or six hours on a hot day, and then
take him to the pump and give him
all that he wants, What I mean
is to give him water often, and, in
that way, he will take only a small
quantity at a time."
After long, continuous exertion
the system is greatly depleted of
fluid. Nature calls for its replace-
ment, and this is the cause of a
thirst which is so intense that, if
the animal is not restrained at this
time, he may drink much more
than he needs.
The custom, .almost 'universally
followed, of giving the -morning
meal before water, is not very 'ob-
jectionable, either theoretically or
practically. At this time there is
no depletion of fluid, consequently
the horse is not very thirsty and
does not drink rapidly or excessive-
ly, and apparently very little evil
results from this method.. How-
ever, the writer much prefers that
the horse should have an opportu-
nity to drink before the morning
meal.
Personally, I much prefer keeping
horses, both summer and winter, in
an open shed, with a large water
tank in the yard, to tying them by
the head in a barn.
Not only in giving water to hors-
es must care be exercised, but in
every other way.
Many a good driving horse has
its years of usefulness cut short by
being left in the hands of some per-
son who does not know how to take
care of a. horse or does not care
what happens to the horse that
happens to comp into his hands.
One of the most common ways of
injuring a driving horse is by driv-
ing him hard in cool weather, and
when the horse has been brought in
to a sweat, leaving hive uncovered.
and exposed to cold winds or to
drafts in a stable,
It is seldolh necessary to drive a
horse so hard on a cor11 day that he
will be in a sweat, In warm wea-
ther it is different, as the horse
then sweats with little exertion.
When the horse has been driven
until he is covered with foam and
sweat, he should be taken into a
stable, rubbed down with whisps of
hay or piece of rough cloth, and
then blanketed. The neglect of
such precautions has resulted in
many a horse catching cold that has
proved serious.
Driving. is a science itself, and
there are..many mature people who
have not learned. how to drive a
horse. They have no idea as to the
amount of work he is able to per-
form without lessening his vitality.
It must be remembered that a ,
horse, as well as a marc, is limited.
as to what he eau do.
With headquarters at Hamburg, ..
the Hamburg -American Line is the
largest owner of steamships in the
world.
it